From me to you.

Gwearbennen wishes you every good blessing at Yule.

On the rebirth of the Sun may your days be peaceful, your heart be full of happiness, and your body be strong.

Creating Yule blessings.

Remember I've told you about the android apps I have on my Nexus, the arty ones? I decided to use those to do the 'special' Yule time greeting cards this year. I usually do these few special* cards in watercolour or maybe acrylic but I've just not been up to sitting up for that long, ergo those apps were a boon! To get them printed, despite my having a very good printer I had no card stock (not very well organised this year)  I turned to the funky bird, who made a real good job as they always do. I use them often, in fact I have their app which makes it all very easy and quick.

Now that the recipients have got them in hand I thought you might like to have a look yourselves....

* Special people get special cards, although this year I ran out of time before I ran out of special people. Apologies to my sons and my sister and a few others!  But I hasten to say that if you got a shop bought card you are no less special, indeed not!  If you weren't special to me, you'd not get a card at all. I don't believe in being two faced like that. I mean why would I go to the trouble and expense to send a card to someone I never see or speak to or even email during the year? I'm hardly wanting to wish then blessings at Yule am I? <emphatic nod of head>

I have to apologise for grammar and spelling mistakes. I'm making no excuses, just apologising.

Occurrences occurred.

It's been a while.
Things have either been happening within a whirlwind, or not happening in that very boring, 'stuck in bed unable to do much' way. The latter days I've simply not been up to threading a sentence together, which is annoying as writing on here would be the best past-time.

A few things have occurred.
It's become obvious that my new meds have the side effect of clinging to all food that enters my body and turning it into fat! Not ideal. Not ideal at all. I'm not saying I've become obese, I'm a long way off that, but I'm noticeably carrying a spare tyre. And not a bicycle sized one either! More of the Ford Fiesta size. Like many other physically disabled people, I'm in a catch 22 situation - exercising is difficult, even walking is hard or impossible on many days, so I rely on trying not to eat very much. Without exercise no matter how little I eat, I'll put weight on. But extra weight is really bad for me, my joints and spine suffer and of course, my old broken ticker will struggle to cope.
I read that Devon NHS has said it will refuse to treat overweight people*. It's so easy for them in charge to make such announcements thinking they're helping by scaring people into dieting, they don't seem to understand the problems of the disabled who can find it one frustrating issue.

* http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-devon-30318546

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Another occurrence
 the new addition to the family has finally arrived; J'Max my new yellow Nissan Juke Tekna. Crammed full of the latest gadget
ry including monitored tyre pressures, voice control, cameras, reversing assistant, and heck knows what else. By next Yule I might just know half of what the buttons, knobs and switches actually do but right now I'm using the instruction manual. Nicest thing is the heated leather seats, a real help for my spinal problem. And did I say it's all in yellow? Yes, yellow. A massive event for one who always chooses black or grey, isn't it? I fancied a change.

∆∆∆∆∆∆

Couple more occurrences that are worth mentioning.
My youngest son had his 29th birthday at the beginning of December. I managed to make him a cake, a chocolate Bundt cake. Sadly I forgot to take a photo so you'll just have to take my word for it, it was very nice, both in looks and taste /texture, even though I say it myself! I was relieved tbh as it's simply ages since I've been OK enough to bake.

Finally, my eldest son has been very poorly. I don't want to discuss it without his knowledge as he's a very private person, but he has finally been diagnosed with diverticulitis, something I know little about as it's something I don't have! Oh my! Something I don't have. How good to see and speak that sentence! Lol. Seriously, I've never seen him in so much pain, what a nasty condition it is. Thankfully the antibiotics have worked their magic and he's on the mend from the infection but has to alter his diet, which will help keep the condition in check.
If any of the five reading this suffers from diverticulitis and has tips and advice to give, I'd be grateful so that I can tell son.

There's a tramp!

The following memories from my childhood came about when looking through the Art Renewal Centre Museum, and coming across Portrait of an Old Man by Adolph von Menzel 1884. Immediately my mind went back to those men of the road, vagrants, swagmen or whatever you wish to call them. 

Growing up in rural north Staffordshire, an area of farms, fields, tiny hamlets and not much else, we often had `tramps' walking the local roads and lanes. These were men* dressed in outfits seemingly collected from various places or perhaps given by kindly people whose homes they passed on their travels, I'm sure they'd be clean when handed over but the tramps lifestyle had the kiss of death on cleanliness and smartness, soon they became rubbish dump looking. Wherever their outfits came from they had a unity of sorts, a uniform that made them recognisable immediately as men of the road from quite a distance away. 

My eagle eyed mother on the merest sight of a tramp, would announced his coming. "Tramp! There's a tramp coming! Come on get inside, get in now!" And she would clack about like a demented chicken, snatching her washing in off the line, dragging me indoors where I'd be put to work closing all the windows and making sure doors were locked. Then it was upstairs to watch, through the safety of the windows, the walking bundle of clothes plod by minding his own business, hopefully unaware of the mother and child hiding from him.  I've no idea what prompted such panic in mother, maybe at some time one had frightened her, but her panic was quickly caught and caused my tender young heart to bang against my ribs in the way Keith Moon played his drums. 

 The first thing you'd notice about the tramps clothes were the overcoats, greatcoats I think might be the correct term. Usually with epulattes on the shoulders and double breasted, I'm sure that at one time they'd have been fabulous attire but now the rips and tears made interesting looking holes. I wonder if some small hole made by a bramble or the like became a bullet hole or the mark of a knife, when it's wearer sat round the camp fire story telling for entertainment. (I'm more than likely wide off the mark but it's an amusing thought). I know many of them wore a jacket under these greatcoats, I can only imagine how skinny they must have been when stripped because to wear not only a jacket but several jumpers and a shirt. It's probable they wore vests isn't it? Crikey! 

Then on his lower half possibly more than one pair of baggy trousers in a murky colour, I know that for sure because one very warm summers day, my aunt and I came upon one rather old tramp lying on the grass verge of the road he was fast asleep with his hat on his chest, his arms folded over his belly. He had one pair of trousers unfastened, held up by braces (the buttoned type) and this enabled us to see another pair underneath, before we turned and fled back the way we had come. (BTW, I judged his old age only from what bits of face we could see between his eyrie of a beard and the sheaf of hair on his head. To be honest so little could be seen, and what could was so deeply grimed with years of dirt, that his age and ethnicity were uncertain. This was true for most of the tramps round our area.)

To complete their outfits were the mufflers, hats, big and scruffy boots, sometimes wellingtons, and for a lot of the men it was string that kept it together. Some had belts round their coats and jackets but I remember the string being more the par. Walking rag bags my aunt called them, I'm not sure if it was said with sadness or disgust. 

For the most part they kept to themselves in their own little world, never even bothering to glance sideways, eyes fixed on where they were going. Occasionally there would be one who became a regular, occasionally you'd get to know his name, particularly if he did odd jobs for the farmers. Rarely did you stop and speak. Actually when I say 'you' I mean the adults of the villages, us kids kept our distance! This was the English countryside in the 1960s when kids were really kids, not miniature teenagers, and we knew what would happen if we used cheek to anyone and that included tramps. 

Who were these men? Where did they come from? Where were they going? To be honest I've no answer for you, and I would love to know. There were a few who were soldiers, come back from the war only to find they had no homes, no families left. (This is in the Midlands, so I presume some were from Birmingham, Coventry, and the other areas that saw the devastation of bombing). True indeed that some of them I watched from the upstairs windows, were obviously suffering from mental problems. One I remember well for his tendency to dive for cover at any loud bang, I'm ashamed to say my older cousins had fun with the dust bin lid as he walked past. 

Whoever they were, whatever their past was, wherever they were going they did no harm as far as I know. There might be suspicions of them pinching something from time to time, and one used to sneak into mother's outdoor toilet and use it, not bothering to flush which drove mother mad. I'm glad for the offender that she never caught him, put it that way!

* I say these were men simply because we never saw any female tramps. That's not to say there weren't any, I don't know if there were or not! In writing this blog I deal only with what I've experienced myself, it's life as I've seen it and lived it. 

The owl and the pussycat...

Didn't go to sea after all. The owl stayed on his special tree, his big eyes surveying all around him and not missing a thing. While the pussycat sat underneath, waiting for... What? The owl to fall asleep and off his perch? The owl to say something witty or wooey? Or maybe they really are best friends and share their mice supper?

I'll leave it to your imagination to decide.

Spring is coming

With each day we're closer to spring. It might not seem like it at the moment, weathers not very nice, without doubt worse is to come as winter draws her cloak around us. So to remind us of what's ahead I did this little bit of art today. I'm no good at naming my art so I'm just calling it Spring is coming.

Go forth and create

Facing the prospect of yet another day in bed I needed something to do. It's really easy for me to find something to do actually, but not so easy to find something that I can manage to cope with doing. Crochet is off the agenda until the shoulder is completely well, I tried it the other week and didn't even manage the smallest scrumble before the red hot knife trying to pry off my scapula put paid to that.*

Today I really fancied getting out the art stuff, that box of water color paints and tools that my son got me last Yule has been begging to be used but I'm not able to sit upright enough yet to paint.  Using color pencils is difficult too for the very same reason, in fact until my lower spine /coccyx eases up, there's some problems to get around.
Not all is lost! I have a tablet! Not the kind that you gulp down either, goddess knows I've plenty of them, but a 7 inch beauty of a beast. A Nexus 7 2013. I know there's better and bigger ones out there but this suits me and now I've got used to it - only taken me 5 months - there's not much I can't do on it. It's on this life saver that my aforementioned problems are overcome.
So coming up is some art work I went forth and created today....

* I'm speaking metorphorically here, it's exactly what it feels like. So don't go thinking there's something incredibly brutal going on in this abode. 

Brain has a mind of its own

I've not been up to writing much these last few days, that lack of sleep really playing havoc with me being far too exhausted to think properly.  Reading has been bad enough with my brain adding words that aren't there, mixing up what is there, not to mention not grasping what sentences mean. Basically it's as if my brain has a mind of its own.

"Exercise for your age." Became "excuses for your age", the TV programme wording declared "the following events are based on eyelashes accounts" until I looked again and saw "eyewitness accounts", amongst the description for the car's gadgets I was amazed it had " climax control ", I sat a few moments longer than I care to admit trying to work that one out before I saw what it really said was climate control!  {Embarrassed giggle}

No, really, best I refrained from writing until brain was awake.

Stinky stuff now...

It's coming up to that time of year when perfume ads become even more lavish and regular on TV. The companies must spend a ridiculous amount of profit getting these ads made and running, so I guess their sales do increase as some lucky women get a bottle or two of amber liquid under their Xmas trees. (Although I know I've seen purple in a bottle, amber still seems to be the usual thing.) In the hope that one or two or a few of those bottles would end up under my tree, I'd leave notes around the house. "Ysatis by Givenchy, please x" and hope they'd get picked up and pocketed. I can't think of anything nicer than an elegantly wrapped bottle of perfume, tied with a bow, that makes me feel feminine and special.
So I'm asking, if he's not given the heads up, what helps a man choose the scent he does for his female recipient? Does he go browsing Boots and  Debenhams,* sniffing all the various bottles until he finds one that reminds him of her?  Maybe he goes for the one with prettiest /sexiest bottle? What about the celebrity perfumes, perhaps he fancies she would like to smell like Britney Spears, or Jordan or whoever else he fantasies? Some men take the trouble to try and find out by asking her female rellies and mates, or sneakily look through her drawers to find what she already wears. I'm sure they must?
But at the end of the day, I would think that most women love whatever bottle of perfume their men give to them, after all it shows he's taken the time and trouble -and perhaps even overcome embarrassment - just for her.

Now if you're someone looking for perfume ideas or would like to discover whether there's a different, cheaper version of the scent you love, I'll suggest you take a stroll over to I SCENT YOU A DAY  you'll find all kinds of help in the form of reviews, questions answered, and so on. It's a lovely and friendly site.

* ( or maybe Superdrug and the big supermarkets? Hopefully not the charity shop!)

When sleep won't come.

I can't sleep.
I've not slept during the night for the last week.
I'm very tired and would love to sleep.
But I simply can't sleep.

I'm well used to insomnia and I doubt there's a sleep inducing self remedy I've not tried. However all I can do is be patient and put up with it because I know it's only temporary. OK it might be another few days, another week, even a month before I finally start sleeping but eventually it will happen.

In the meantime there's books - the Kindle app for android has become my BFF, cutting out the frustrations of trying to keep my torch steady or needing to be wound up every few minutes, both feats that should be part of the Olympic games! Many of the books in my Kindle library are free but I do buy the occasional good read (hooray for samples that determine whether I'll enjoy it or not) and usually for no more than the price of a charity shop hard copy, dog eared book.

There's also the android apps that do a great job of helping time to pass. I'm not really a game person, I've tried Angry Birds etc but soon got bored. Ditto the match three type of games. On my tablet you'll find 'arty' apps like Kids Doodle, Oil Painter, and colouring 'books'. I've used some to make the artwork on this blog. None of them have cost me a penny. How brill is that!! I'm a buggar for getting apps, using them for a while, becoming bored and uninstalling them. I'm a Gemini so what do you expect!? Lol. But because I'm always doing this I find its important to have a decent cleaner installed, one that cleans out the left over files that some apps leave behind. At the moment I'm using SD Maid which I'm finding effective and easy to use.

Well, having shared all this with you I'm still awake but rather droopy eyed so maybe if I turn off and snuggle down I might get lucky. Wish me luck.

Night night. XXX

                      The Apps on my tablet that have creative fun with

I found one of my old poems...

Penned in 2012 by yours truly...

Having it all.

Twas a calm sunny day
on a sea of deep blue
when we sallied forth
in our boat for two.

How we loved, we laughed,
we had a ball.
Hand in hand together,
my love we had it all.

Then along came a deep grey cloud
it dimmed the shining sun.
So we huddled even closer
while the storm around us spun.

But we loved , we laughed,
we had a ball,
Hand in hand together,
my love we had it all.

Our sail it was lambasted.
The dark, it made us shudder.
Hot, salty water stung our eyes,
tenaciously we held our rudder.

We still loved and laughed,
tried to have a ball,
hand in hand together.
My love we had it all .

The storm in time did blow away,
the wind and rain they died.
Drenched, I sat on tattered deck,
holding you close right by my side.

For we'll always love and laugh,
we'll have our ball, our sun.
Hand in hand together, my love, our journey carries on.

© Hedgerow Art 2012

Plans? that's tempting fate!

On Monday afternoon I got back to the Cornwall flat, rather pumped up with plans for the week ahead. I was celebrating being half way back on my feet, my heart working with a bit more percentage, the shoulder injury easing up, and generally being almost back to my usual fibro self with bad days balanced by the good. Yep, things were looking up it seemed. Travel takes it toll now, the 40 mile journey has to be recovered from by doing nothing until the next morning so making myself comfortable, changing into my lounging pyjamas, I retired to bed in order to get over the journey.

Cut to Tuesday; because of resting up the day before I was OK enough to unpack my luggage and medications etc. More of the latter than the former if I'm honest with you. It is much to my embarrassment that the amount of medications, pills, capsules, and liquids that I have to cart around to keep me going, has a bag all to themselves. Still, no doubt there's plenty of other people who need far more. Anyway, I came to put the empty cases on top of the wardrobe and on shoving them backwards I felt a hard thumping crack in my lumber spine. Now what had I done? My old, long standing spondylosis / spinal stenosis had been awakened rather sharply. That's what! I've got over ten years of coping with this ailment and generally I manage very well, being able to use the techniques taught by my physio to 'quieten' it down, so that it mutters in the background rather than screams full blast. So while it didn't actually bring me to my knees it came close, thus I ended up lying on the bed taking extra morphine, codeine, and paracetamol. Not all in one dose I hasten to add.

 There I've been for the rest of the week - In bed unable to move freely. When I have to get out to go the loo, have a leg stretch and so forth, my movements are akin to a penguin who has pooed his pants. Even in agony i can laugh at myself, I think most sufferers of long standing illness and disability have this knack. After all, it's either laugh or cry and although I do my share of crying, I think - I certainly hope - that I do more laughing.

So much for the planning of gentle strolls in the park, round the lake, and the window shopping in town!! I am used to plans going awry or falling through entirely, of course I am, I've got fibromyalgia. You can't plan much when fibro is your companion for it has a mind of its own and your body belongs to it. I learnt early on that it's a case of grabbing the opportunities as they happen so as not to miss the good spells. When I feel OK then it's time to play, not faff around thinking. Thinking is for the bad spells. However it doesn't stop me from planning, old habits die hard, but now I don't get so upset when they don't happen. I get pissed off, sure I do but who wouldn't?

So here I am early Saturday morning, looking back at a week that has consisted of doing zero, zip, zilch physical activity, rested but still in agony. Stupid spine. It'd better not be the same next week, please don't let it be another week of this cos I have plans! {Wink}

The best company

Let me introduce my two dogs,  Zaffi and  Lulu.  Zaffi (the mop top) has been with us for some years now, I've lost count tbh,  whereas Lulu (black and tan J.R) is relatively a newcomer of just  3 years.  They both live in the home I share with my husband in Devon,  so  I see them every three weeks for  three weeks.  Such wonderful companions, they really are.  I know my husband would be very lost without them and  I certainly would!  There's nothing nicer than the cuddles a dog can give,  so warm and cosy. 
In time I'll relate little tales of these two, plus the two cats Tumtum and Rastus.  For sure they all get up to mischief and make sure we're often amused by their actions.  ��

Free thinking about myself

The following has not been edited, corrected, or tidied up.  It's a brief look inside my thoughts. I've a lot of time to think since I developed fibromyalgia, that's for sure. Anyway, here's my train of thought on a wet, cold, windy autumn afternoon.

" Since I got a glimpse of Death's Door* I think I've changed. I've read and heard about people who say this and always thought it was a bit silly,a bit sensational on the part of the survivor.  But now I think they might be right.  A close call changed me.  No seriously, I think it has.  I still have sense of humour,  justice,  morals,  etc  but it's changed.  My outlook has changed.  I feel very wise, as if  I've  been somewhere and been taught something I never knew before.  I battle with feeling slightly superior, something that is not in my vocabulary usually,  maybe superior is the wrong word.  I'll have to get dictionary out.  Because it's not that I feel  'better'  than other people.  Not  superior in that way.  But I feel I have something different. Some different kind of wisdom,  a knowledge I didn't have before. I look in the mirror and in my eyes there's something there that wasn't before. Tbh it can feel a little alarming, not really knowing myself. I guess it's a temporary thing, like my panic attacks are. I kind of hope so anyway. "

* referring to my recent heart failure.

I remembered them

For two minutes at 11am, 9th November 2014, I hushed my mouth and remembered those who have died in the wars. It was no big effort on my part, just sat quietly and let my thoughts go to the fallen, they surely deserve a couple of minutes of thought every year. 

To my friend, and companion.

"Some relationships go beyond the usual normal best friends or lovers and everything in between the two.  The blessed ones amongst us find their soul twin, aka twin flame. The one true friend, of either sex, who knows what we're thinking, who can finish our sentences, who experiences our pain sometimes literally. They're the ones we can look directly into their eyes, revealing our naked soul and not feel a moment of shame or embarrassment.  
Soul twins stay together even when apart. They have no worries of losing each other, for they've been together centuries.
The love between them is unlike any other, it's simply 'there' they don't have to declare it. They possess an ease and  comfort with each other it's as if they share the same skin.
There's only one soul twin, and to meet is so special. Many walk the earth and ether never finding each other.
Your soul twin completes you makes your soul, your essence whole.

But my dear,  being twin flames,  soul twins, isn't of the romantic issue.  It's much more than that.  Each soul is created in two parts which split,is my belief.  I see human twins as souls that split but didn't part so are born to same mother.  The other souls go their seperate way, being born to different mothers if born at all. Some never meet again,  the lucky ones do.
 When they do meet and join together it isn't necessary that the pairing is romantic or sexual, not at all, many become the strongest friends with a bond so firm they are like siblings.  To my mind this way of pairing twin flames is perfect,  there is enough emotion in the twins coming together as it is without adding romantic emotion to it.  To have your twin flame as your closest bested friend is to be blessed indeed.  It is in this way you are my twin flame,  the half soul that went that way while I went this way.  That we met again must surely be celebrated as our reward and high point of this life. No matter how many people are in our lives, having you is the most precious gift ever. Remember my words. "

In resus. August 2014

I faced death and death faced me, neither of us knew what was to be.
Death looked on while I fought the battle; waited for my breath to rattle.
Seeming to smile he held his scythe, was his pleasure to watch me writhe?
Did he enjoy to see me fight, had he no sympathy for my plight?
Then out of the grey and swirling mist, a calming hand grabbed my wrist.
Pulled me up, held me tight, whispered "not your time, my dear, not tonight".
Suddenly aware of needles and stings, stickers and wires and all sort of things,
Surrounded by angels in human disguise, determined to see that nobody dies.
These wingless beings with human features! These wonderful, trained, caring creatures!
Out of the corner of my frightened eye, I saw death give a gentle sigh,
Then with a slow firm nod of his bony head, " I'll meet you later " his essence said.
Away he faded through the flimsy veil, taking with him his coffin nail.
So I faced death and death faced me, but due to those angels he let me free.